Astrophile
by piratesmiley
Summary: At night, long after Peter has stopped singing to him, Walter thinks very hard about what he has done, in order to appease the animal.


A/N: A slightly late Father's day type thing. Inspired by _Father Sings A Lullaby To His Child_ by Chopsticks. (Go read it.)

Spoilers: There's More Than One Of Everything.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fringe.

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In Walter's moments of lucidity, the clearness, the memories, everything in his brain take the form of a rabid dog. This dog isn't the kind he can dose with just a bit of cannabis to calm it down, but the kind that is so far gone from, for lack of a better term, humanity, that it can't function above terror and survival instincts. Conscious Walter wants to erase every memory of his past life; the beast wants them known, wants to torture Walter for his past, for power over him.

At night, long after Peter has stopped singing to him, Walter thinks very hard about what he has done, in order to appease the animal. He remembers slowly losing his own humanity, his curiosity as his downfall; every time he gave in a little on the laws of ethics he gave in a little on his own already lax moral code. He remembers his sexual conquests, and the inevitability that one would result in a child, and then how surprisingly happy he was when one did.

In those days, the mother did the real work, and Walter was always in his lab, so there wasn't much diaper-changing or bottle-feeding for him to do. But he did remember creeping into the nursery before going to bed, watching his baby boy's chest rise and fall. Despite the science of it he knew so well, he was in awe. And often he would wake up early the next morning and wait for him to open his eyes. The Bishop men would watch each other in wonder, and for that moment, and for every moment like it, Walter would think something uncharacteristic and unscientific: his baby had stars in his eyes. He'd swear it was true.

But life moved on from starry moments to a raging young child with an absolute hunger for whatever Daddy was doing. Maybe Walter was at fault for exposing Peter to his own brand of pseudoscience, but at the time he saw nothing wrong with it. Peter loved it, and was quite content to sit the lab for hours on end until his mother picked him up after her shift at the diner across town. Walter liked to sit him up on the lab table and show him exactly what was happening and why. He felt in necessary to be harsh, never to sugarcoat. Peter needed to learn, not to be babied.

And that was the beginning of the end. By the age of five Peter Bishop was smart enough to know he was going to die and young enough not to know how much that would hurt. He also knew it was his father's fault. The child, with his unbeknownst mini-universes, didn't blame Walter for anything, even though it was _his _experiment and _his _desperation that had sequestered him to the hospital and to the sickness. And with every day watching his baby in the hospital, Walter grew a little more insane. The son he'd hoped for, been given, and loved intensely was wasting away. Guilt and grief were plagues; the scientist was sick too.

The malicious hound of his past mistakes often failed to remember their last moment as father and son, just the two of them. The clearing wasn't special; the view of the sky was the prize. It's late, later than he'd ever stayed up, later than he ever would. Seven years old, he hadn't done hardly anything. Walter fought tears the entire time while he pointed out the constellations.

Shuddering, heaving, gasping, sobbing, he reawakens. Peter has a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. There's a touch of annoyance but mostly concern and confusion, but Walter wonders if it's wrong that he sees the same stars, again in this child who isn't quite his.

"Just a dream, son," he offers, the lie far better than the truth of swimming, drowning in memories. The relief Peter tries to mask doesn't quite make it out the door, so he nods and returns to his place, feigning sleepiness for lack of an answer.

Walter drifts, watching the boy he stole. He knows that this whole ordeal, everything happening know is because of what he has done, starting with taking this child from his home. He knows that the end of this war Olivia is working so hard to prevent and decode will end with Peter. He knows he will have to face his enraged, sharp other.

Walter shuts his eyes and fights to stop remembering.


End file.
